


through the lens

by hawkinzclub



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Steve Harrington-centric, another mistake, aren't all of my fics about steve like did i even need to tag that, uh oh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkinzclub/pseuds/hawkinzclub
Summary: It's the beginning of a nightmare he's not asleep for.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & The Party
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	through the lens

**Author's Note:**

> between writing and tiktok my brain is all over the place.
> 
> but here is something i've been working on since november? of last year. so yes! an apocalypse fic!! enjoy!

through the lens

It was delicate; the way that it happened.

A way in which one wouldn't have noticed so quickly.

It was one of those things where all of the clues are in one's face, and yet, they still don't see it.

It isn't until they have the final stroke of chance at their hands that they finally glance at what they could have had.

But by then, it is too late.

...

** Chicago **

** November 5th, 2019 **

"Dude come on! Get in the car it's fucking freezing!"

Jonathan snaps his last picture and hurries in the car before Steve could get the idea to leave him. He slides in the car and puffs his cheeks at the sudden heat. He rolls his eyes at Steve's dramatic gesture at turning the temperature dial all the way down to the red.

Steve blows in his hands and rubs them together before putting his car in gear, "Dude, I don't get your obsession with that fucking tree."

Jonathan fiddles with his camera. He looks through the pictures and deletes anyone he doesn't like. "There's snow on it."

Steve huffs, "There's  _always_ snow on that tree."

"Yeah, but it looks different this time."

He could see Steve glance at him quickly, "How? It's snow on a tree. A tree with snow on it, a tree and snow making lo-"

Jonathan cuts him off and turns the heat down. "Shut up, man."

Steve puts his hands up quickly in defense, "Sorry, sorry. Go on man, explain. I'll shut up."

"I don't know. It just seems like - more delicate I guess? Like someone took their time out and placed the snow how they wanted and... I don't know. It just looks better than it did yesterday."

Steve just hums quietly as he switches lanes. The music is quiet, just how Steve knows Jonathan likes it. The heat is blowing on his cold face, and he knows that with traffic and distance, it'll be a long ride home. Just as his eyes begin to close, Steve speaks.

"So, speaking of yesterday. How was your first week on the job?"

Jonathan stiffens, "Good."

"Good? Is that all I get?"

Jonathan just shrugs, "Better than the last ones, I guess."

Slouching in his seat just a little, Steve sets the cruise control. "So like, what'd you do? What did they have you take pictures of?"

Jonathan doesn't answer. He just looks out of the window and pretends something has caught his eye.

But Steve doesn't let up, "I mean, it  _is_ a photography job right? Or are you doing some shady drug shit or something?"

He goes on, "Cause if I'm gonna be dropping you off and picking you up five fucking miles from where you're actually supposed to be then something is _up_ , man."

Jonathan’s still quiet, praying to something above that Steve will let it go. If he’s being completely honest, he didn’t do anything. He sits in a room all day, holding his camera in his lap and looking like an idiot. He sat there for two days before anyone acknowledged that he looked a little out of place. But even then, nothing happened. They wrote his name down and still, he just became a boring fixture in a lab slap in the middle of town. 

And like, his phone barely works in there. 

Steve taps Jonathan lightly on the shoulder, “Dude? Come on, man. Give me something.”

Well, saying that he was bored is what he’s supposed to say.

”I don’t know - I was just bored the entire time.”

It was boring, at first. But once they were ready for him, things _changed_.

” Seriously , and you think it’s better than the others?

”I - I  guess? It’s a little more exciting? I - I don’t know.”

Steve sits up in his seat, he looks a little more awake, “ Exciting ? Now we’re getting somewhere.”

For just a second Steve takes his eyes off of the road. He tells Jonathan to  _hold on for a second, I can’t find my phone._

Jonathan’s eyes and hands follow his, grasping at Steve’s leather seats and gliding over the still cool Mercedes emblem on the console. Jonathan finds the phone first, and still unbending himself, Steve looks back up at the road; and Jonathan loses the phone as he’s jostled to the right and his face gets pressed against the cold, wet window.

There’s a cacophony of honking and tires screeching together. And then, a scream.

Jonathan peels his face off of the window and follows Steve’s gaze.

”What the fuck is that?” He asks.

Steve reaches for the door handle, “She’s bleeding.”

Jonathan peers out of Steve’s window and sees a woman standing in the street. She’s crying, well he thinks she is. He can’t really tell with all of the blood on her face. It looks like it’s seeping out of her skin. Her clothes are bloody, and her hair is matted on her forehead.

He goes to open the door and Jonathan slams his hand down on to his, “No - what are you doing?”

”She’s bleeding man.”

”Wait - no,” Jonathan looks out of Steve’s window and sees a man exit his car, “Look, see? Someone’s already helping her. Now let’s leave before someone busts you in the ass.”

Steve breathes out a few times before he lets go of the door handle and slouches back down in his seat, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

...

Nancy can’t cook.

She can read directions and set timers and do measurements, but she’s cooked this taco soup three times already and it’s still disgusting. And like, who can’t cook taco soup?

”I don’t think you’re doing this right.”

She jumps a little bit, and the soup on the spoon flicks to Steve’s backsplash. She turns to the voice and spots Lucas leaning on the counter.

”Go away.” She turns away and moves to the pantry to grab more ingredients so she can fuck up for the fourth time.

Lucas moves beside her, “We can help, you know.”

She opens her mouth to snap at him but he just shoves her out of the way, "It's kinda dry."

"It has taco meat in it," She scoffs and grabs a towel from the counter. "It's  supposed to be a little dry."

Lucas pauses his stirring and gives her the side-eye, "It's taco  soup . It's not supposed to be dry like, at all."

She grabs a cup from the cabinet and slams the faucet on and fills it up. She pushes Lucas aside and dumps the water in the pot, "See? Now it's not dry."

He puts his hands up in surrender and backs out of the kitchen.

Nancy turns the level of heat down and steps back for a moment and leans against the counter. She hears keys jingle and immediately perks up, knowing that the boys are home.

She hears Steve go, “We made it, fuckers!” And the familiar thump of his shoes hitting the wall as he kicks them off. When she makes her way to the front door, she can see Jonathan gently setting his shoes down on the rack.

He gives her a warm smile, “Hey Nance.”

She gives him a smile back and waves at him. Steve’s greeting to her is a ruffle of her hair and he runs off to the living room. She turns back to Jonathan, and they sort of stand there. Awkwardly.

”So, how’s the internship?” She asks, trying to bring some sort of normalcy to this. It’s different now, since they aren’t together anymore. But living together, still. It makes things a bit weird. 

He just shrugs with his hands in his pockets, “It's going well. I think."

She stares at him a little more, seeing something a little familiar in his eyes. “Everything okay? You look shaken.”

”Oh, yeah. We just saw something weird on the highway.”

”Oh? What was it?”

He clears his throat, clearly looking for an out. “I don’t know. Some lady in the lanes, she looked half dead.”

She wants to ask if he’s okay. If he needs anything. But, that instinct isn’t there anymore. Not like it used to be. She would run up to him and hug him tight. Kiss his ears and smile at how he tenses up whenever she does. Did. Whenever she _did_. 

She tries to add something else to the conversation but is stopped when she smells burning and hears Steve yell from the kitchen.

“Yo! Who the fuck’s burning this shit?”

Nancy runs to Steve’s voice in the kitchen. “Oh fuck!”

Steve turns down the heat and adds water to the pot, “Did you think it was going to cook itself or something?”

She chuckles and hits him on his shoulder, “Oh, shut up you asshole.”

”No I think you’re the asshole here, you ruined dinner.”

”What - no I didn’t!” 

Steve gives her a look and she goes, “Don’t give me that look, it’s _hard_.”

”It’s fucking _soup_ , Nancy.” But he can barely say it through the shakes of laughter that go through him.

Steve throws a look behind him through the opening between the living room and the kitchen. “Don’t worry everyone, former King Steve will save us all. No one goes hungry today!”

Hours later, Nancy stirs awake. She looks around and spots everyone asleep. The kids are sprawled on the couch around her, and Jonathan and Steve are on the floor, arms around one another. 

She tries not to think about how that feels.

The TV is still on, the color and brightness are like sirens to her eyes and she looks away. The volume is on low, she can only barely make something out about a breaking news story.

She hears the jingling of keys again. Holding her watch up to herself, it comes to life and she spots the time.

It’s nearly 8:00.

The door finally opens and she hears a thud. Nancy looks back at everyone. They’re all still asleep. She gets up and feels under the couch and feels a sliver of relief when she feels the cool metal on her hands. She gets up and walks gingerly to the front door.

”What the fuck, Nancy!”

It’s just Robin. On the floor.

Nancy puts the gun down on the end table near the shoe rack and kneels next to Robin.

”Were you about to _shoot_ me?” She asks, her eyes widening by the minute.

”No. _No_ , I just - I just woke up and I heard something.” 

Robin shakes her off and slowly stands to her feet. “Just call out or something next time, yeah? It’s just me. Just me.”

”I’m sorry, okay? I just - Wait, are you okay?”

She suddenly remembers that Robin was on the floor when she came around the corner and that she heard a thud beforehand. “Did you fall?”

Robin nods, but only slightly that Nancy almost missed it. “It’s been a long day.”

Nancy remembers the time then, too. “You’re late. You were supposed to be here hours ago. What happened?” 

She takes Robin’s hand and guides her to the kitchen where they sit at the island. Robin puts her head on the island and clasps her hands together across her bare neck.

”Something weird happened.” She says into the counter. Nancy puts her head down, facing Robin. The other girl does the same, and they’re both just looking at each other. Heads on the island, giving themselves neck pains.

”Wanna talk about it?”

Robin tries to shrug. “I guess. Steve says I should talk about stuff that bothers me.”

Nancy chuckles, it echoes and bounces back into her ears. “Look at him, being right for once.”

Nancy just waits. The four of them have only been roommates for so long, and Steve is the only one of them who knows Robin like the back of her hand. Usually, he'd be the one in here with his head laying on the cool marble, but it's her spin now. She doesn't want to fuck it up. She and Robin should be able to talk to each other. About _actual_ things, not lame shit like the weather. Or what's to eat. Nancy knows that Robin's more interesting than that. She just wonders if she herself is more interesting than that. If she has substance. _Layers_. 

"Are you ready, Nance?" Robin asks her softly, snapping her out of her nightly self-deprecating thoughts.

She nods and her face rubs up against the marble. She can see Robin swallow hard.

"So, I was working. Obviously. And this woman comes in, with her kid. And he looked _fucked_." She sits up in the chair, facing the leftovers on the stove in colorful bowls and black tops.

"He was really pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. I checked him in and everything, and they sat down." She looked at Nancy, "And you know how some kids when they're sick, still bounce around - make too much fucking noise and shit?"

Nancy nods, and she sits up too.

Robin nods back and continues. "But this little guy, he was so still. I couldn't help but think that he had fucking cancer or something. So I get up and grab a piece of candy from my hidden stash and I walk over to him. He was uh - he was sitting closest to me, and his mother was on the phone. Maybe on pinterest or something, I don't know. So I try and give him the candy, and the kid _launches_ at me before I can even grab his attention."

Nancy's eyes widen and she reaches out instinctively and touches at Robin, "Holy shit, are you okay?"

Robin stiffens at the sudden feeling of hands on her, but she doesn't wave Nancy off. "Yeah, I backed away in time. But he went crazy, like. He fucking _bit_ his mom."

" _What_?"

Robin fully turns towards Nancy, and even though she's tense and afraid she melts into Nancy's hands, which still linger on her body. "I fucking know. It was so fucked. And like there was so much fucking blood, Nancy. _God_."

She fell fully into Nancy's arms, having Nancy clench her leg to keep them up on the bar stools with Robin halfway hanging off the other. Nancy had led her to the bathroom, and in that short walk, she felt something change between them. A small change, but one regardless. Robin had let Nancy run her a bath, and stay with her. And Nancy didn't look, not how she felt compelled to do so. She ran the wet rag over her back and her shoulders. The bathwater tinged pink slightly, near the color of Robin's lips. It made Nancy wondered what they'd have to do to get the water to be the color of Robin's eyes. Then she had thought about the other colors that make up Robin. She left the bathwater alone and just thought about Robin.

She lays in her bed now, the kids gone home and everyone asleep. Aside from her, who's up now. Suddenly realizing how the other girl living in this house makes her feel. She thinks back to the sound of her voice, which might be Nancy's favorite part of her. Rough, but sultry and soft all at once.

The memory of it lulls her to sleep.

**November 6th, 2019**

Jonathan wakes up the next morning with the ghost of yesterday on his mind. He can feel his camera stare at him from the dresser in the corner of his room. He's never wanted to break it more than he has this week.

High school had been out of his mind the second he had walked across the small stage. But he remembers all too clearly the feeling that shook through his core when Steve had broken his camera. Remembers that feeling when he took those pictures. He felt dirty, but he did it anyway. Only now, it's that magnified by a million. He's not capturing indecent girls, but more of lies. And then the truths right after. His film is just one big contradiction.

He still thinks about that woman who came to retrieve him, had peered down at him through her glasses as he sat in the most uncomfortable chair in the world. Maybe they did that on purpose. If he thinks hard enough, he can still feel the ache in his thighs from sitting down too long.

He brushes his tongue. Maybe he can brush his compliance off and spit it down the drain. But it just swirls round and round and round, mocking him. Spitting back into his face instead. 

As he puts on his clothes, he can hear Steve rummaging around in the kitchen. He pauses in buttoning up his shirt, he wonders if Steve would be disappointed in him. If he'd hate Jonathan for watching as those people found death in the ice caps and put it in a bottle. He doesn't really know if it's from the ice caps. But they tested it, and the way the man deteriorated in the span of three days and then convulsed into something Jonathan doesn't want to call human. The way that happened felt like it was some old disease they found in the ice caps. But knowing these people, they probably created it themselves.

There's a knock on his door, and before he can answer, Steve's coming in.

He holds up a piece of toast, with one already in his mouth. Somehow Jonathan understood him when he said, "You want breakfast?"

Jonathan just laughs quietly, which Steve learned to be _yes_ in his language. He comes over, a little too close and pops the bread in his mouth. Jonathan pulls it out after a bite, "You dork, is this peanut butter?"

Steve lands back first on his bed, sending crumbs flying from the piece of bread in his hands. "Yeah. 'S good right?"

Jonathan throws a pillow at the boy. Silently screaming at himself. Thinking of what he has to do to keep Steve looking at him like that.

The car ride to his work is quiet. It’s nothing usual, Steve is always a little more mellow in the mornings. It’s colder than it was yesterday, and still dark in the earliest hours of the morning. Jonathan reaches up and moves the dial all the way to the red.

Steve only chuckles, reminiscent of yesterday. Jonathan spots the dash, “Hey, don’t you need gas?”

Steve follows Jonathan's eyes and waves him off once he sees. “Oh, no. I’ll be fine.”

He continues to tell him it’s fine when Jonathan digs into his front pockets to find his wallet. 

“No, let me. You’ve been picking me up and taking me to this stupid internship every day for the past week. Let me. Please.” And maybe there’s too much desperation in his voice. Too much of a plea to just let things be. To just let him.

If Steve notices, which he probably does, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods and Jonathan sets the money in the cup holder, knowing that Steve wouldn’t take it himself.

”I thought it was exciting.”

”What?”

Somehow, Steve looks like he’s pulling his own teeth. “Yesterday you said the internship was exciting, but just now you said it was stupid. Is something going on?”

If things looked how they felt, then Jonathan’s stomach would sink to the lowest depths, near his feet, maybe. And then they’d seep into the nice floor mats of Steve’s car.

“I was - I was just saying something. I didn’t mean it.”

”That’s definitely a fucking lie, man. You know you can talk to me right? I thought we had gotten past this?”

”Past _what_?”

Steve laughs, but it’s not one that Jonathan likes or cares for. “Past all this awkward shit, like we can’t fucking talk to each other or something!”

”Maybe you just need to realize that I don’t have to talk to you about everything.”

Steve goes quiet for a moment. His hands grip the wheel and then they don’t. “We’re friends right?”

He thinks they’re friends. Someone watching them from afar would think so, like this morning. And last night when they were cuddled against each other. Sometimes it feels like something else, like they’re teetering on the edge of it, but Jonathan won’t say what it is. He can’t help but think about how sometimes all he can think about is Steve, and how other times he wants nothing more than to get away from him. It may have been years ago, but he still remembers being the ant to Steve’s boot. He can still feel the pressure of Steve’s two fingers into his chest and the sting of his biting words. The only reason they meld together now because of Nancy, who ironed out their misunderstandings and _wanted_ them to be friends. Then Robin came along and it all felt like a fucking cliche TV show about a group of best friends.

But they’re not. All of this was _Steve’s_ idea. The move-in, the nightly dinners, the chauffeur for Jonathan. Steve’s lonely. Even after being roommates with him for months he’s still lonely. And sometimes, sometimes - that real bitter part of Jonathan thinks that he deserves it.

Steve pulls alongside the tree, snow still sits atop it but not the same as it was yesterday.

He goes to get out without a goodbye, feeling the bitter part of him showing face.

”Hey?”

Jonathan closes the door and turns around as Steve lets down the window. “Yeah?”

”You never answered me.”

And he knows what he’s talking about, but he asks anyway, “When?”

”When I asked if we’re- if we’re friends.”

”Yeah, Steve. We’re friends.”

Steve’s been trying to think about how he feels for the past few days, and he still can’t pinpoint it. He’s not sad. Things are going okay for the most part. He’s living with his friends, and his smaller friends come over often. It’s like he finally has a family. But, he’s not happy either. Nor is he angry.

He’s just numb. So he finds himself overcompensating in areas where he should feel something. Cracks one too many jokes, gets a little too close to Jonathan. Does a little too much where much isn’t needed.

He doesn’t have to drive Jonathan back and forth from work every day but he does. No one thought about putting four teenagers in a house together except for him.

He tries to cook dinner every night, running himself dry trying to bring everyone together.

Robin blames his parents, and then he realized that she was right. That in their acts of throwing money his way, they forgot to love him. They forgot to be there for him, support him when he needed it. Now he can’t appreciate a gift from someone without thinking that a gift is all they’ll do for him. Now he has to find love within four teens and a group of kids to keep himself going.

Even if it means waking up way earlier than he should to take his friend to work. Even if it means cooking something every day. Even if it means that he cries himself to sleep at night, he just wants to feel something. Anything other than the expected emptiness.

He takes a long way home. A winding two-lane road surrounded by trees and small houses scattered around in the fields. He’s taken it a few times, whenever he needs to clear his mind. It’s a definite change from the rapid four-lane interstates with nondriving individuals and as of late: bloodied women standing in the roads. He keeps going around the bend until he comes across a vibrant blue Camaro in a field of faded dead grass. He thinks about passing the car when he sees it. Thinking that maybe Billy's just busy, or _busy_. And he doesn't want his eyes to be subject to that.

He slows down when he gets nearer, and pulls over to a halt when he spots blood on the hood. He opens his door and waits for a few seconds and just listens. Waiting for any indication of something bad. Something _wrong_.

When the sound of his pulse becomes too loud for him to hear anything else, he exits the safety of his car. The grass crunches beneath his sneakers, and each step he feels like he's calling out to whatever's here. He steps past Billy's car. Finding nothing when he peers inside, he keeps walking. He keeps walking until he meets the treeline, and then he creeps. It's still early morning, and the sunlight is only just beginning to break. There are gaps in between the trees, and he pauses for a second. He looks in each direction, even back to his car. He almost goes back.

But then something in his brain tells him otherwise. That numbing feeling rises again. Feeling like a tingling, it overwhelms him. That override in his system that makes him want to feel something, do something. Even if it's fear or desperation. He feels useless and empty all at once.

He thinks it's maybe why he keeps walking, deeper into the woods. Even when he barely knows Billy. Only from the feeling of his fists molding his face that one night. That night where he found himself babysitting a group of kids while their parents were off doing whatever. While Joyce and Hop were on a date. Maybe that's why he was there that night. He needed it. The need to _feel_. Maybe that's why Billy painted his face with his own blood. Maybe _he_ needed to feel something too. Something other than the weight of his own father's boot on his chest. Steve realized what was happening in the Hargrove household faster than he'd like.

He keeps walking until he sees an outstretched leg stemming from a tree. He walks over to it slowly.

He whispers, "Billy?"

He can hear rapid breathing as he walks around the tree. Seeing that it is, in fact, Billy, he kneels down in front of him.

And he looks fine. But his eyes don't. He's trying to tell him something with pursed lips. He shifts his eyes to his left and back to Steve, and then to his left again. Steve gets the message and he follows it.

Just against the tallest tree in the woods, is a herd of people. Ragged clothes, matted and bloody hair. No shoes, or maybe one shoe. Their skin doesn't really look like skin at all. It seems to have become a thin film of grey. With blue and green veins protruding through.

Steve jerks his eyes back to Billy, wanting to look at anything other than the nightmare in front of him. 

He can feel something now. _Fear_. And Billy feels it too. The younger boy puts his index finger to his lips, and then slowly he stretches that arm out. All the way out past Steve's face, with his blues still locked into his browns. He doesn't want to turn around, but the plea is there.

Slowly he turns his head. Like molasses slow. Hoping that with it he'll wake up. Actually wake up and be anywhere but where he is right now. He doesn't even know. He doesn't know the name of the road, fucking _nothing_. He just knew the little road went alllll the way around and then he'd end up in his driveway. With a few turns here and there. Even though he doesn't say anything, because he can't, Billy's rushing him.

His head finally gives way, and what's behind him is something that even the darkest mind couldn't conjure up. 

It's what was once a person, maybe. It's naked and overly tall. Like it could almost be half the size of the tree. Steve can see its ribs. He can see it's organs move inside of it. The skin is a darker grey than the others, but instead of blue or green veins, there are patches of dark red throughout its body. Its face seems like someone went and plucked all the small, barely noticeable things from it. But here, against the grey and red skin. Against a too tall body. The lack of eyelids is noticeable. The removal of eyebrows is noticeable. No lips, _none_ at all is noticeable. The thing is just eyes and sharp teeth and bone.

And it looks hungry.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!
> 
> in the tags it does say canon divergence but if you skip over that for some reason then this fic is canon divergence!!! demogorgons never happened! none of that super fun and fresh upside down stuff happened okay? okay. nice. cool.
> 
> hope you enjoy this, i actually have a plan this time


End file.
